


we baby this dog too much

by lovelylogans



Series: croft the dog [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Animal Death, Dogs, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Past Animal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2020-12-20 16:16:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21059552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelylogans/pseuds/lovelylogans
Summary: The puppy’s name, once they came up with it, was just too perfect, really.





	we baby this dog too much

**Author's Note:**

> anonymous asked: Could you do "I'm sorry I got way too into playing house" for the weird sentences prompts?  
lovelylogans said: sure thing! i am also shoehorning this in as a sequel to [this previous prompt fic](https://lovelylogans.tumblr.com/post/174068111382/i-lost-the-ask-for-this-but-i-have-the-prompt) of mine in which the sides adopt a [tripod pitbull puppy,](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/83/65/3f/83653f9fa3617296b885878b73e7de40--tripod-jax.jpg) so, like, Dog Content™

The puppy’s name, once they came up with it, was just too perfect, really.

“Croft,” Roman cooed, and Croft lifted his head from where he’d been napping on Virgil’s lap. “Crofty, honey, come to papa, I’ve got a new toy!”

Croft snuffled a little, settling his big, meaty head back on Virgil’s nap and staring at Roman with doleful eyes.

Roman sighed at him. “You’re the laziest puppy I’ve ever met,” he said, lowering the toy he’d been squeaking.

“Did you not hear him doing laps in the hallway at three in the morning?” Logan asked, from where he was absentmindedly running his hand up and down Croft’s back. “The dog is nocturnal.”

“Wonder where he gets that from,” Patton said, and shot a Look to all three of his roommates, as if to truly underline how horrible they were at following Logan’s advice, even Logan himself.

Logan’s original name idea was Crofter’s Premium Spread Logan’s Berry Organic Jam, potentially shortened to CPSLBOJ, which was understandably shot down by everyone in the room. Roman’s next proposal was Croft_er’s,_ to which Virgil said they weren’t naming the dog after a fucking jam brand, and Patton proposed the mediation of _Croft:_ so they could say he’d been named after the jam brand _or_ after Lara Croft from the Tomb Raider franchise.

So Croft had immediately been given a _Croft_ collar tag with all of their phone numbers on it, a custom jam jar toy Roman had commissioned from someone on Etsy that Croft rarely touched, and a fluffy Lara Croft toy that was tucked up by his dog bed that he also rarely touched.

Croft was currently pretty small, since he was still a puppy; according to the vet, he’d probably top out around 80 or 90 pounds. But right now he just had really big ears, a very long tail, and three massive paws that he tripped over pretty often. 

Virgil scratched absently behind Croft’s ears, and Croft let out a sort of grumbly happy noise; he was a talkative kind of dog, with a lot of sighs and grumbling and soft little barks they all unanimously called _boofs._

He also had the tendency to _arororowowow!_ at them whenever they all left him for a period of time, leaping up on them, eager to be pet, which Logan was trying to train him out of, because whenever he leapt up he didn’t exactly have two stable paws to land on when he came back down.

It wasn’t like they _all_ left him all at once very often; really mostly whenever they went out to dinner. Their schedules were different enough that most of the time one of them was home to take Croft out when he needed it and work on basic training with Croft. He was a smart little guy, and very food-and-affection motivated, so Croft had down the basic _sit, shake, lay down_thing_; _they were still working on _roll over_ and _heel._ And _stay; _he’d get so excited to follow after wherever they were walking off to, he’d gambol right after them, tail wagging excitedly.

Croft had been living with them for less than a month, but he’d managed to capture all of their hearts basically immediately. 

Roman had, in fact, immediately recreated Rosa’s _I’ve only had Arlo for a day and a half but if anything happened to him I would kill everyone in the room and then myself_ from Brooklyn 99, with all of them. All four were on their various social medias to announce that they’d gotten a dog, and also printed out and framed in the living room.

It was odd, to look at the photo and Croft now; he’d already grown so much in the month they’d had him.

Croft had his problems too; potty-training was an ongoing battle. He couldn’t handle other dogs, and either got aggressive or whimpering and frightened whenever he saw them, so they always walked him early in the morning, when there wouldn’t be other dogs around. He was a menace to most small rodentia and birds; he’d already killed three robins, a mouse, and had grievously injured a possum. 

But he was such a cuddly, eager boy—any difficulties were well worth it.

“Fatherhood has _changed_ me,” Roman had declared once, which—well. Kinda, yeah.

Once they started parting ways, Croft picked his head up from Virgil’s lap, following after them; he slept in their beds, because they were all softies. Croft tended to alternate between all of them, moving from room to room throughout the night. They’d all learned to either sleep through a dog hopping on their bed, or to sleepily roll over, give him a clumsy pat, and go right back to sleep.

Croft was also a bed hog, so it was a bit of a struggle to actually get _in_ bed once he was there; a lot of the time, they had to lift him, set him aside, and quickly lay down under the covers before Croft could decide he wanted to take over their pillows or the center of the bed.

Once Logan came back to his room, ready to curl up in bed, he was unsurprised to see Croft already sprawled wide across the bed.

“Croft, move, you know the drill,” Logan said, shoving him to the other side of the bed and promptly sliding under the covers, turning off the lamp, sending them into darkness; there was the familiar press of Croft’s cold nose as he situated himself, pressing as close as he could get to Logan.

Logan wrapped an arm around him, sleepy, and pressed his nose against Croft’s back, inhaling his doggish scent. He loved this dog, to a degree he’d never actually admit out loud.

“Good boy,” Logan whispered, and Croft let out a sleepy little sigh.

* * *

Roman woke up to a tongue on his face.

Roman squinted, and laughed a little, narrowly dodging a doggy kiss straight into the mouth, nudging Croft’s head aside.

“M’up, m’up,” Roman said, and patted him on the back. “Let’s hope you didn’t leave any surprises around the apartment, how about a bit of a w—_stroll,_ huh?”

Croft had quickly learned what the _w_ word meant, so they either spelled it out or used some other word, lest Croft start bouncing around eagerly.

No surprises, which was good, and Roman tugged on some clothes, hunting around for a plastic baggie and Croft’s leash, at which point, Croft started _bouncing_ eagerly, running between Roman and the door, jumping and wagging his tail so fast his whole butt wiggled.

“I know, I know!” Roman said with a laugh. “Okay, now—_sit.”_

Croft sat. Well, mostly; he sat in such a way that his butt didn’t quite touch the ground.

“Let’s go!” Roman said, opening the front door, and Croft charged forth, yanking Roman forward with his odd-hopping gait, throwing himself into the walk with all his force. 

Roman liked taking Croft on these early morning walks; it was some exercise, which was nice, and… well.

He’d never tell his roommates this, but Croft was a really good listener.

He knew that Croft didn’t actually _understand_ him, but he was good at _seeming_ like he did; there were the huffs, and pants, and looks that he did often. It was just kind of nice to… talk, sometimes.

“It’s probably going to be a bit of a long day,” Roman told Croft, as Croft sniffed interestedly at a tree. “I’m not going to be here a lot. Rehearsals are really picking up pace.”

Croft made a snuffling noise.

“Yeah, I know, I haven’t been here as much,” Roman said, “but you’ve got the other three, too, ya know? I’ll try and keep morning walks free and _extra_ long, how about that?”

Croft tilted his head a little, and trotted-hopped onwards. Good enough for Roman.

The walk in the brisk fall weather continued like that; Roman talking to Croft about his schedule, his worries, and each time, Croft would make some kind of noise, or wag his tail. 

It was just nice, Roman guessed, to talk to someone who’d keep all your secrets, and not judge you for silly things like _I’m worried that I’m going to mess up onstage and everyone’s going to hate me for it. _Croft would just wag his tail and lick him and flop down on the couch with him once they’d gotten through with the walk, demanding all the pets that Roman could give him.

* * *

Listen, Virgil had been team cat, all the way. He was as surprised as anyone to find out how much he liked having a dog.

Virgil cracked his eyes open when the door creaked open, irrationally afraid (when wasn’t he irrationally afraid, though?) that Patton had gotten back early and noticed Virgil wasn’t on campus today. Virgil frowned, because no one was there.

The sudden displacement of his mattress spoke of a different story, and Virgil let a hand flop in Croft’s direction.

“Hey, bud,” he said, voice scratchy. “I’m not really… at my best today, so if you wanna play tug or something—”

Croft made the grumbling-sighing noise at him, and instead laid his big head on Virgil’s chest, huffing a breath through his nose.

“Oh,” Virgil said, at last, and paused, hand hovering, before he at last let it come down on Croft’s head. “Cuddle time, huh? That’s what you want?”

Sometimes, it seemed like Croft’s favorite times of day were in the early morning, when he cuddled up against any of them and they both snoozed until they actually had to wake up. Virgil had never before met a (would be) 90 pound dog who was so convinced he was a lapdog.

“Mkay,” Virgil murmured, and they adjusted—Croft ended up, essentially, on his side, mostly laying on top of Virgil, head tucked in the space between Virgil’s head and neck.

Virgil, hesitantly, wrapped his arms around Croft’s body—to make sure he stayed in place and didn’t fall off, and stuff.

The warmth and the weight of him was doing something to make Virgil’s eyelids feel heavier, though. Croft would occasionally rumble in his ear, in his sleep; Virgil envied the swiftness with which he could fall asleep.

“You’re a good boy,” Virgil managed to say, and started petting Croft; his fur was kind of bristly, and it provided an interesting texture under his hands. Something else to focus on.

“Such a good boy,” Virgil murmured, hand continuing to make the lazy path up and down Croft’s back.

So dogs weren’t that bad, after all.

* * *

“Crofty Crofty Croft!” Patton sing-songed, bent forward, hands on his knees. “Who’s a good boy? _Whosagoodboy?!”_

Croft was eagerly wagging his tail. _Who is the good boy?!_

_“Is it you?!”_ Patton crooned, and giggled as Croft hopped a little. “Is it you?! I think it is! You’re such a good boy, Croft!”

He scooped up Croft in his arms (he was genuinely considering taking up weightlifting so he’d be able to keep picking him up once he was fully grown) and planted a kiss on his little forehead, Croft wiggling in his arms. 

Patton was alone for the evening, but that was okay, because he’d thought of some things to try with Croft! Things they’d never done with him before!

“We’re gonna do an experiment, baby!” Patton crooned, and at last set Croft down. “Okay, so, here we go! I got some new things to try!”

There were a lot of new toys. Unsurprisingly, Croft loved all the ones that would transfer a treat to himself; Patton could relate to wanting only food and love. Like, a _lot._

To the point he immediately snapchatted an image of Croft chasing clumsily after a treat ball with that exact caption to his roommates.

Okay, he might have snapchatted a _lot_ of pictures of Croft. His camera roll was now almost exclusively pictures of Croft or his friends, but really mostly Croft. 

Patton, at last, dug out the piece de resistance, as Roman would say, and crooned at Croft to come—and immediately realized some flaws with this plan.

But he was gonna make it work!

* * *

“Patton, we’re home,” Virgil called, and frowned.

Croft hadn’t come running as soon as they came through the door. That was… different.

Logan and Roman were exchanging looks of a similar degree, Logan already half-crouched, as if just out of habit. He cleared his throat and stood up, straightening his tie.

“Kitchen!” Patton called, and all three progressed forwards, before coming to a stop.

Patton, blinking, turned from where he’d been stirring a pot on the stove, holding Croft (in a onesie) on his hip, as if Croft was a baby.

“Um,” Virgil said at last. “Patton.”

Patton blinked at him, and looked at Croft, and then back to them, before he laughed a little nervously, setting Croft back on the ground so Croft could hop forth and demand love.

“**I’m sorry**,” he said. “**I got way into playing house**.”

“We baby this dog too much,” Logan said ruefully, before immediately helping Croft unearth a slightly trapped treat from the treat ball and giving it to him. 

“He _deserves_ it,” Roman declared, and nobody could quite find it in themselves to disagree.


End file.
